


Making Snow Angels

by delicatecherry



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Auror Draco Malfoy, F/M, Healer Draco Malfoy, Healer Hermione Granger, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-07 15:46:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11626731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delicatecherry/pseuds/delicatecherry
Summary: Will Draco be able to save Hermione from a devastating fate?





	Making Snow Angels

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the lovely MrBenzedrine. <33
> 
> The original couple is Julian Albert/Caitlin Snow from The Flash TV show. The gist of it is that Caitlin becomes a murderous Metahuman called Killer Frost and can't control her actions. Julian falls in love with her and tries to find a cure. Side note: Julian is played by Tom Felton.

**Part I: Before**

“It’s over.”

* * *

_Daily Prophet_

_Remaining Death Eaters apprehended! Is the world safe from Voldemort supporters?_

* * *

_Daily Prophet_

_The Ministry: Corrupt, no longer? Minister Shacklebolt talks._

* * *

“Kingsley offered us a position in Auror training.”

“Good for you, Harry.”

“Um, ‘us’ includes you too, Hermione.”

“I don’t think I want that life for myself.”

* * *

_Witch Weekly_

_Wizarding World heroine spotted in Australia. Hot love affair? Or family tragedy?_

* * *

“Are you okay?”

“No.”

* * *

_Daily Prophet_

_Death Eater Trials Begin_

* * *

“I’m testifying for Narcissa.”

“ _Humph_.”

* * *

_Daily Prophet_

_The Malfoy family exonerated!_

* * *

“I bet Lucius bribed every seat in the Wizengamot.”

_A gasp._ “I thought Shacklebolt took care of that?”

_Blank look._

_Sigh._ “You’re right. He probably blackmailed them as well.”

* * *

_Daily Prophet_

_Hogwarts rebuilt. Students going back._

* * *

“Who’d want to go back to school after last year?”

“I’m going back, Ron.”

“Oh.”

* * *

“You’re taking an internship in Defense Against the Dark Arts?”

“Obviously, seeing as I’m here.”

“I’m taking one in Mediwitchcraft as well.”

“I’m taking one in Potions.”

“It’s a pity we’re only allowed to take two. I would’ve loved to be in Arithmancy.”

“Don’t make small talk, Granger.”

* * *

_Daily Prophet_

_Anti-Death Eater revenge group strikes. Narcissa Malfoy confined to Janus Thickey._

* * *

“I thought you were taking Potions.”

“I dropped Potions.”

“Was it because of your mother?”

“Shut up, Granger.”

“You can just say you don’t want to talk about it.”

“Fine. I don’t want to talk about it.”

_Silence._

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about her.”

_Heavy sigh._

“Me too.”

* * *

_Daily Prophet_

_Lucius Malfoy commits suicide. Where is the Malfoy heir?_

* * *

He was sobbing his heart out when she found him. Knuckles bloody, the mirror shattered, just like his soul was.

“Malfoy.”

His cries were gut-wrenching. He probably hadn’t heard her over the sound of his hysterical gasps.

“Malfoy.”

A whimper.

“Draco, it’s me.”

He was sitting in a corner with his knees drawn up to his chest, rocking back and forth, making the most depressing sounds Hermione had ever heard. She kneeled down next to him and touched his arm.

A sharp intake of breath. His head snapped up, and his neck made a _crack_.

Sniffles.

“What do you want, Granger?” His voice was hoarse and unpleasant. Hermione tried not to cringe and gave him a faint, but encouraging, smile.

“I want to help.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“You clearly do.”

“You don’t understand. Nobody can help me.” He rested his head back on his knees. Another sob. “I’m broken,” he said with a broken voice.

“It’s okay. Sometimes you need to break before you can be fixed.”

* * *

  **Part II: During**

_Four years later…_

“I have brought you tea,” Draco said.

“Well, aren’t you just sweet?” Hermione replied sarcastically.

“What’s got your knickers in a twist?” he asked with an amused grin. He’d become accustomed to her general weirdness; she wasn’t a morning person.

“I brewed a simple Anti-Allergy Potion, but I must’ve got something wrong because it isn’t the right colour,” she explained petulantly. She never took kindly to failure.

“Maybe you should have left the Potion-making to someone who _actually took an internship in it_.” Draco enjoyed messing with her head.

“Oh, shut up. Besides, you dropped out of that.”

“Not my point.”

“Here, let’s see if _you_ can do any better. You spend so much time in the Ministry these days, one would think you were an actual Auror.”

“I _am_ an actual Auror, Granger.”

That much was true, at least. After Hogwarts, he and Granger both became Healers at Saint Mungo’s. He also trained as an Auror to become a Ministry Special Healer. It was a part-time job at the Ministry, in which he went on missions with other Aurors to be of any assistance regarding their health. He worked with Hermione in Potions and Plant Poisoning the rest of his time.

“No, you’re not. Harry’s an actual Auror. He says they rarely need any help from you. In fact, he says you’re just a pain in their arses,” she said smugly.

“Potter is not at liberty to discuss the details of our missions. I’m going to report him.”

“He’s Head Auror.”

“I’ll figure something out,” he fumed. The truth was that he enjoyed the thrill of going on important assignments involving Dark Wizards. Even if he had no part in actually catching them.

“Just admit it, Malfoy. You’re not very skilled in Defense Against the Dark Arts. You can’t even cast a Patronus if I remember correctly from our time at Hogwarts.”

“That’s not true. We’ve had this discussion before. Maybe not then, but I can cast one now,” he said indignantly.

“Prove it.”

“No, I don’t need to prove anything to you,” he said and turned back to the Nausea-Relief Potion. “You stirred it counterclockwise instead of clockwise, didn’t you?”

Hermione reflected on the procedure and realised that she had, indeed, stirred it in the wrong direction.

“You’re good for Potions, at least.”

The fact of the matter was that he could cast a Patronus, but he had a sneaking suspicion that she wouldn’t be too happy with the form that his corporeal Patronus took. He hadn’t been able to cast a Patronus at Hogwarts, but it was necessary to become an Auror. Fortunately, his trainer had never met Hermione Granger, and discussing the shape of one’s Patronus was not something they made a habit of in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. There hadn’t been a need for him to cast a Patronus on his missions, and hopefully, there never would be.

* * *

The worst headache of her life.

“Granger? Are you even listening to me? This is _not_ the correct temperature. If we add Goosegrass in this stage, the Potion’s potency might become—“

Bright lights.

“—different from—oh _shit_!“ 

Everything went black.

* * *

“I think she’s up,” Harry’s voice made its way to her ears. The sound, though nowhere near loud, made her wince.

“Merlin, Granger. You scared the shit out of us. What happened?”

“I—I don’t know.”

* * *

“What’s going on, Potter?”

“I’m not sure. They’re saying she attacked a patient.”

“I won’t believe it until I see it with my own eyes.” 

“Yeah, me neither.”

* * *

Draco opened the heavy-looking door and let himself in. The room he entered was plain and uninteresting in every way possible. The walls were white, and there were no windows. The only things lighting it were some candles floating near the ceiling. There was another door across from the one he had used to come in. Two guards stood on either side of it.

“I’m here to see the patient,” Draco said. He took his Ministry Special Healer badge out to show to the guards. They both grunted in response, and one of them waved his wand while the other tapped the door with his own. It took a moment for the guards to take down the intricately woven wards. Draco could practically feel the magic buzzing around him. The door finally opened, and the guard on the left side of the door, the one that was tapping the door with his wand, gestured with his head that Draco could proceed.

Draco slowly made his way across the room and left through the second door. One of the guards followed him and closed the door behind them. He started to tap the door again to put the wards back up, but Draco wasn’t paying attention. The second room looked much like the first one, but Draco’s equipment covered it. There was a standard hospital bed in one corner of the room. Draco’s desk was on the left side of the room, while the bed was on the right side. His notes were stacked neatly in a bookshelf next to his desk. Potion ingredients and a cauldron sat in another corner of the room.

There was another door across from this one. Draco waved his wand, and the wall that held the second door became transparent. The patient sat in the corner of her room. She had her knees drawn to her chest, and her arms wrapped around them. She rested her forehead against her knees and was rocking back and forth. She looked like she was crying, but Draco knew better; she was trying to calm down. He waved his wand again, and the wall became solid.

“Maybe you should leave,” Draco said. He had been coming to this place every day for three weeks now; every time that he was here, one of the guards stayed in the first room while the other came with him to this one.

“You know I can’t Mister Malfoy,” the guard said. “It’s standard Ministry protocol. I can’t leave civilians alone with a prisoner.”

“But I’m not a civilian, am I? I went through Auror training to become a Ministry Healer,” Draco replied. Then he delivered the final blow. “I go with Aurors to their missions, and I’m pretty sure I’m more qualified than you are. All you do is sit around and change wards,” he said cruelly.

“Mister Malfoy, I can’t just—“ the guard started to say, but Draco interrupted him.

“Do you want me to inform Head Auror Potter? He is a good friend of mine,” Draco said— _lied_. “I doubt he would be pleased to know that you interfered with the healing process of his best friend,” he explained with a smirk. The guard paled and nodded. He knocked on the door twice and started the tapping again.

“Knock twice when you are finished. Make sure she’s in her room before you do,” the guard said, and then he left without a second glance. Draco waited to make sure the wards were back up before he knocked on the door to the patient’s room.

“Yes?” came Hermione Granger’s tentative voice from the other side.

“It’s Lord Voldemort,” Draco said, rolling his eyes. No response came. “It’s me, Granger. Just open the damn door.”

Hermione opened the door a crack and then said, “You know, I don’t think it’s alright for you to talk to me like that; I’m your patient.” She opened the door after making sure that it was, indeed, Draco Malfoy on the other side. “Besides, you know what happens when I lose control.”

“I’d like to think we’ve made some progress and that you don’t lose control because of some harmless teasing,” Draco replied with a grin; he then turned serious and asked, “What happened? I saw you in your room before.”

“It was just another nightmare. The Dreamless Sleep Potion is losing its effect. I didn’t _turn_ or anything, but it was bad. I think I need a higher dosage,” Hermione explained solemnly. Draco took note of her appearance. She looked exhausted with purple bags under her eyes. She was already much thinner than four weeks ago, having lost about thirteen kilos from mental and physical fatigue and sleep deprivation.

“You know we can’t do that, Granger,” Draco replied softly. “You’re already addicted to Dreamless Sleep. It will take months of rehab for you to sleep normally again. If we up the dosage it will become harder to fight the addiction. Not to mention that, with your current condition, staying asleep for longer hours might trigger a coma you may never wake up from.”

Granger sighed and looked down. “I know that… I just miss sleeping,” she mumbled.

“I know. We’ll figure something out,” Draco assured her. “We always do.”

“We do, don’t we?” she replied with a faint smile.

They were silent for a few seconds before Hermione closed the door to her room and walked to sit on the bed, getting ready for the procedure. Draco followed and took out his wand; he started the standard spells, checking her pulse, blood pressure, etc. He stopped after every test to enter the results in his notepad.

“How have you been eating? You can’t afford to lose more weight. You look dreadful,” he commented dryly.

“Wow, Malfoy. You really know how to make a girl feel good,” Hermione replied sarcastically. She knew that Draco was only joking, but she couldn’t help feeling self-conscious; she grimaced and shrugged noncommittally. “I don’t get hungry anymore. In fact, the only reason I ever eat is that I’m bored in this damn prison.”

Draco, now finished with his examination, went to sit down next to her on the bed.

“It’s not a prison, Granger. You know why you have to stay here.”

“I _know_. It’s just so frustrating not knowing what’s going on. We don’t know what caused my condition. We don’t know what triggers it. We don’t have a clue how to halt the process of me becoming that—that… _thing_.”

Draco could see that she was on verge of tears. He put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her against him. She rested her head against him.

“It’s all going to be okay, Hermione. I promise.”

Hermione’s heart panged. He had only ever called her by her given name two times before. The first time was that day in the bathroom, and the second time was when they graduated from Hogwarts the same year. She sniffled, and said, “You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do. We are only _the_ best Healers in the entire Wizarding World. Not to mention, we have access to every Ministry resource we could want, what with you being Potter’s best friend.”

A moment of silence. Then, “I had another episode last night.”

“I figured.”

She lifted her head from his shoulder for a second to look at him strangely. She, then, sighed and put her head back.

“It’s not polite to spy on a girl, you know.”

“It’s not spying. I was just checking to make sure you weren’t having an episode right then.”

Draco could feel Hermione open her mouth as if to say something, but no sound came out.

“Is there something you want to talk about?” he asked hesitantly. Unlike what most people thought, Hermione Granger wasn’t the kind of person who talked about her feelings. In fact, most of the time, Draco had to coax everything out of her. She was extremely quiet regarding anything that wasn’t work-related. As bizarre as it might sound, Draco Malfoy was the emotional one in their peculiar partnership.

“Are…“ She took a deep breath. “Are you afraid of me?” She gently tugged his arm off her shoulder and sat up straight, looking ahead of her and not meeting his eyes—unlike Draco, whose grey eyes snapped her way. Hermione started biting her lip, waiting for his response. When it didn’t come after a full minute, she looked down at her lap where she had her hands clasped so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. Draco had become quite good at reading her expression during their time working together, but it didn’t take a genius to realise that she was anxious for his answer.

“I’m disappointed, Granger. I thought you knew me better than that.” Draco said it sarcastically, but he was also a tiny bit worried about what she actually thought of him. He knew he might come off as an egotistical and rude, and he knew he might sometimes be a pain to work with, but he also tried his best to redeem himself for the public, for _her_ , after the war; or at least after Hogwarts.

He would be really disappointed if Hermione truly thought so little of him that she would think he would treat her any differently because of her condition. If there is one good thing about Slytherins, it’s that they are fierce, protective friends, and Draco Malfoy was nothing if not a Slytherin.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” he replied, trying to sound amused and hiding the elation he felt at her words.

“You’re right; I shouldn’t have assumed. It’s just this whole situation. It’s making me edgy and irritable.” She crossed her arms across her chest and looked to her right, avoiding Draco’s intense gaze.

“Did you just admit that I was right?”

“Don’t sweat it.”

Hermione sighed heavily and dropped her gaze to her lap. Then she glanced from her lap to the ceiling, and finally looked at Draco, whose eyes hadn’t left her for one second. She gave him a solemn smile.

“I guess we should get started?” It was a statement, but it came out as a question. They had been trying to figure what had caused her condition in the first place but to no avail. All they knew thus far was that any extreme emotional reaction could induce an episode.

A ‘light’ episode, as they had so eloquently named it, would consist of her saying things she wouldn’t normally say. In an embarrassing turn of events, she had called Draco ‘hot’, Ron ‘useless’, and Ginny ‘a bitch’.

In some of her ‘heavier’ episodes, she would become more violent. She had even attacked a Saint Mungo’s patient.

They also knew how to identify an episode; there would be some subtle changes in her appearance. Her pupils would dilate, her cheeks would become flushed, and she would even start saying nonsensical delirium sometimes. 

“Yes, we should.”

* * *

“Granger! I think I figured out why this happened, and I think I know how to fix you!”

“What?”

“Yes!” he said giddily. He was panting with excitement and making wild gestures with his hands. “Remember when we were making _Subsidio Febricitantem_ and we argued about the temperature and the addition of Goosegrass?”

She tried very hard to summon the memory, but all she got was a hazy picture. “I… Vaguely.”

“It’s okay. That was the day you fainted. I think the concoction… affected you somehow.”

Hermione looked like a metaphorical light bulb had just gone on over her head. She grinned excitedly. “You’re right, Draco! Goosegrass combined with the Mastic in _Subsidio Febricitantem_ at that temperature would cause damage to brain’s frontal lobe, affecting—“

“Affecting personality, behaviour, judgment, intelligence, _and_ self-awareness,” Draco finished smugly.

“This is groundbreaking development, Draco. We can now think of something to counteract the effects of Goosegrass.”

They were too busy to take notice as Hermione’s senses became heightened. Too busy to take notice of how her pupils dilated, and how her hands and voice began to shake…

It was unfortunate that Draco hadn’t told the guard to wait in the other room this time.

* * *

Hermione woke up with a crick in her neck. She groggily opened her eyes only to shut them a moment later because of the brightness and the headache it brought on.

The door to her room slammed open.

“Gr—Granger?”

_‘Draco?’_ she tried to say, but what came out was a pathetic moan. She cleared her throat. “Draco?” she tried again. Her voice croaked.

“You—You’re awake!”

Hermione’s vision wasn’t clear, but she could see that Draco was as still as a statue. He was paler than usual as if he was surprised by this turn of events.

“What happened?”

“I brewed a Potion get the Goosegrass out of your system. It was clustered in your lungs,” he replied automatically; he didn’t look like he was aware of what he was saying. He hastily conjured a glass of water and held it to her lips. She was parched, and she drank the water like she hadn’t drunk anything in months…

“How long was I out?” she asked, much more clearly.

“Three months, two weeks, three days,”—he looked at his watch—“five hours, thirty-seven minutes.”

Her eyes widened comically. “What?” she whispered, shakily.

* * *

Hermione’s trial was in two hours. Draco and Hermione were sitting in a bland waiting room. The walls were a light cream, and there were rows of chairs, all of which were empty except for the two that Draco and Hermione occupied.

“My lawyer told me everything,” Hermione said. Her voice was dry and humourless. Draco Malfoy knew why.

He remained silent all the same.

Hermione waited for his response with anticipation, but it never came. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Her voice broke the exact moment she started to say the word ‘tell’.

“I’m so sorry, Hermione. I didn’t know how. Do you remember—“

“No. No, I don’t remember it, but I had to view your memory in preparation for the trial. It was… It was _awful_ Draco. How can you even look at me and not _cringe_?”

Draco _did_ cringe right then, but not because of her.

“I’ve done far worse during the war, Granger, and I don’t see _you_ looking away from me,” Draco divulged. “Besides, I know that wasn’t you.” He said it to comfort her, but, apparently, it had the opposite effect.

“But it _was_ me, wasn’t it? I—I attacked a patient in Saint Mungo’s. I hurt people. The very thing I vowed I wouldn’t do when I became a Healer. How can I continue treating patients, when I—when I… _killed_ someone.”

Draco couldn’t reply to that particular statement. They were silent for a time. Then, Hermione started whispering in a voice Draco had to strain to hear, despite sitting next to her.

“A sick part of me was glad that the guard was there, and that I killed him. Otherwise—otherwise I could’ve hurt _you_ , or worse,” she said. “Am I a terrible person, Draco?”

The whole world stilled for a moment. Hermione was looking in her lap while Draco was looking straight ahead. Their bodies were rigid and tense while their minds tried to process the situation.

She continued, “I just can’t stop imagining what could’ve happened if—if…”

She sobbed, and Draco touched her arm.

“It’s okay, Granger. It didn’t happen. Everything is fine. _I’m_ fine.”

At that, her sobs turned to sniffles, and then she stopped altogether. Draco offered her a handkerchief wordlessly. She cleared her face and said, “I think I’m broken, Draco.”

“It’s okay. Sometimes you need to break before you can be fixed,” he replied with a solemn smile.

“That’s _my_ line,” she said softly.

His right palm was resting on her left forearm, and their heads were turned so that they faced each other. Draco leant in so that his forehead was lightly touching hers, and they could feel the other’s breath against their faces.

“I know, Granger.”

Hermione leant on her right hand slightly and stretched herself to press her lips to his. A soft kiss. Gentle, like the wind breezing through their hair on a cool spring day. Like dipping their toes in the water in a hot summer, and the sun kissing their skin. Like walking around the Black Lake together and feeling the leaves rustling beneath their shoes in autumn. Like making snow angels.

She pulled away, a bright smile gracing her rosy lips and a blush bringing her pale face to life once again. Draco’s breath hitched just looking at her. Her brown eyes had a spark in them that had been missing for the past few months. And, Merlin, her smile… She was looking at him with so much adoration—Draco could tell—it was probably unhealthy.

“Thank you, Draco. I needed that.” She bumped her nose against his lightly and pulled away.

Draco squeezed her forearm, which he had yet to let go, and said, “You’re my partner, Granger.”

“It’s Hermione.”

* * *

**Part III: After**  

“I can’t believe that they made _you_ my supervising agent,” Hermione said exasperatedly.

“It’s been six months, Granger,” he replied with a grin. “You need to get over it. We have another six months to go, after all.”

She sighed in defeat. “I know… I should be grateful that they even let me keep my job.”

“Self-pity is my thing, Granger. You need to get over yourself,” he said lightly.

Hermione shook her head as if to banish the thoughts from her head.

“Harry mentioned something to me the other night,” Hermione said innocently. Draco didn’t think much of it until she uttered her next words. “Something about you casting your Patronus?”

Draco tensed. He had needed to cast his Patronus last week on a mission to repel a Dementor, and he didn’t think that anybody saw it, let alone Harry Potter. “Oh? What did he say?”

“Nothing, really. He said I should ask you to cast one for me. Something about it being ‘majestic’. Honestly, Draco. Only you would think your Patronus was royalty.”

Draco gulped. “Y—yeah.”

Hermione looked at him expectantly. “So? Are you going to show me?”

“Show what?” He pretended to be ignorant, but it was doomed to fail.

“Your Patronus,” Hermione deadpanned.

“Why would you want to see it?”

“I can’t believe you’re avoiding this again! What is so embarrassing about it that you can’t cast it for me? You’ve seen mine countless times.” She took out her wand and easily cast her otter Patronus just to prove her point.

Draco took a deep breath and resolved his transgressions. He took his wand out and pointed it in Hermione’s direction.

“ _Expecto Patronum_!”

Hermione inhaled sharply and then let out a soft gasp. The two otters were dancing around each other playfully. They circled around Draco’s head before doing the same for Hermione.

“A—all this time? Since Auror training?” she asked quietly.

Draco nodded. “Always… I wanted to do this tonight, but…” Draco put his wand back in his pocket, but when his hand came out again, there was a shiny rectangular box in it. “Granger, will you marry me?” he asked with a grin, confident in what her answer would be.

“I told you, it’s Hermione,” she replied with a toothy grin of her own.

“Is that a yes?” he teased.

“Yes."


End file.
